Well
by Sherbet Daisy
Summary: Everyone.
1. Fuck it

_Fuck it._

_Just fuck it._

Why? Why did I have to have these fucked up dreams? I don't even _know_.

Fuck, of course I know. Why did he have to die? I wish I'd kept it, the last piece of Chris I had, the baby. Would it have looked like him? Acted like him? Caught that haemorrhage thing from him? But it would never _be_ Chris, no, no one could ever be Chris again. No point in wondering what could've been, considering I got rid of it anyway. I miss him like fuck; it's not like losing an arm, a leg or whatever the saying is… It was losing _Chris_, I loved him, no, I _still _love him like fuck. If _only_ he hadn't had that joint. Then again, it might not have been the joint. He could still be alive if he'd stayed in Hospital.

Why the fuck didn't he stay in Hospital!?

I know what he would say if I tried to tell him that now, I know what he would say. He would say "Fuck it" and grin, then kiss me and tell me everything was fine anyway and that as long as I was fine he was fine. But he _wasn't_ fine, and he knew but he didn't tell me. He didn't fucking tell me! I hated Cassie. I hated her for running away and leaving him in his bed like that, blood all over his face, dead. His Dad is a prick for sure, but when the boys nicked Chris' coffin I wanted to scream and cry and beat on the coffin, to tell Chris to wake up and end all this shit, to end the game he was playing. I couldn't look at it. Shoved on the table. I told them to take it back, and after giving his Dad a minor stroke, did.

And the weirdest thing is, the thing that makes me _cry_, was that after Cassie came back, she couldn't say the last thing he said. She had to write it down. The last word that ever came from that boy's lips was my _fucking name_. It made me cry so much. From loss, from love, from mourning. What could've been.

But isn't and wasn't.

And you know what?

**Fuck it.**


	2. Dickhead?

_Was I really that much of a dickhead?_

I mean, was I that much of a dick before the accident? Did I take _everything _for granted like I hear I did? People feel so awkward saying so In front of me, as though it will offend me. I don't really remember it at all, basically another person to be honest. It isn't like hearing about yourself when you have no memory of it, it's like a bit of gossip about someone who you know vaguely from snippets of conversations from everyone else. It was strange, but then again I was strange. I'd survived being hit by a bus for fuck's sake.

I'm not quite right anymore.

Well, I wasn't quite right straight after my recovery. I couldn't write properly, I was like a toddler again, pathetic. No one seemed to realise how humiliating it was to have everyone hovering over you like you needed help with everything. I got a bit of my brain damaged, but I wasn't going to let that stop me, no way. I was the boy who had everything. And I was determined to get that back, I was not going to be a mong forever, no way! Tony Stonem was not going to be a mong. I wanted to be normal again, but being normal hurt, felt weird and just generally seemed wrong. I guess I was just like I was at the start of the first round.

They said I had subdural hematoma. That didn't really mean anything to me. I just wanted to be normal. Normal again. It made me think about _normal_, such a small, simple word which was meant to be reassuring. But if you think, it's so vague, normal isn't really defined by anything and it's a bit of a pain in the ass.

I think one of the things I'd probably've missed most of all my memories were the ones of me and Michelle. Though, that was precisely it, I didn't have many memories of us together. I felt a pain though, when Sid and her were fucking like rabbits, it was frustrating because I didn't know _what_ the pain was at the time. Then we only had a few months before we were sent to different University's, it was obviously really hard for Nips to see me not remember her. Probably the most straining day was the day we all got our results, and we got to see if they were the ones we'd need to go to our Uni's but not necessarily because of that no, even if Anwar completely fucked up on them. It was hard because… Chris died.

Now, I'm a bit less of a dickhead. A little more me, I guess.

**-**

**(: R&R pleaaaase  
**


	3. Small

New York is fucking mahoosive.

No, seriously. As soon as I stepped out of that taxi it was like being mobbed by a wall, a wall of people anyway. I'd held onto my picture of Cass as though my life depended on it as people shoved me out of their way, threw coins at me, shrugged and shook their heads. I didn't know what the _fuck_ I was going to do, I mean, where was I going to stay? What about money? How long was I going to have to stay for? Would I ever find her in this godforsaken hellhole!? Me, in my buggy little glasses against the _whole_ of New York. Trying to find the teeniest girl you could imagine. The kind of difference was, was that she wasn't just a teeny girl, I loved her.

No! Don't get me wrong, I still do love Cassie. Oops! Gave it away, I found her in case you didn't guess. And it was all love-story-fantasy like them soap's on telly and in films. Cassie isn't a princess though, she's a fair and I'm more of a peasant or a donkey than a Knight in shining armour. Because I found her straight away, there she was my perfect little imperfection in a dark green apron, a stubby pencil tucked behind her ear in that Café. I didn't feel quite so small after that, not quite.

I'm not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed (Which I'm sure doesn't exactly surprise you) but I can work, I'm lazy but I do the job. Eventually. We were happy, so fucking happy in New York. She was happy and because I _am_ sappy like that, she was happy, so I was happy. There were a lot of 'appy's in that sentence, well fuck I was never that good at English… Or many other subjects to be quite frank, though now I didn't really give a shit. I had my Cassie, and together we made up the weirdest looking heart shape in probably the whole fucking history of love. That made New York not seem so big, it made me want to thank Tony if we ever went back, which we did. Sid Jenkins and Cassandra Ainsworth, completely different puzzle pieces.

We fit together though. We fit together just fine.

**-**

**I'm just watching Skins (: **

**Katie's episode :D**


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